


One Taste Short of Home

by sakvnosuke



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang (Avatar)-centric, Air Nomad Genocide (Avatar), Angst, Character Study, Cooking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Food, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gen, Home, and by the gaang i mean all of them, convenient tag, like there's a discussion of it, the gaang swears, the kataang is just in the background, you mean my two favorite tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25924942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakvnosuke/pseuds/sakvnosuke
Summary: Air Nomads were supposed to be free. He was not. Air Nomads were supposed to be unattached to mortal connections. Yet Aang clung to what little consolation hanging out with Gyatso gave him.[Aang, the journey of understanding home, and the food that helped him along the way.]
Relationships: Aang & Gyatso, Aang & Iroh (Avatar), Aang & The Gaang (Avatar), Aang & Toph Beifong, Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 162





	One Taste Short of Home

**Author's Note:**

> HELLOO yes i love aang a lot. yes this is half a character study half me lovemailing him. not comic canon compliant.. in a way. i think you'll see. but enjoy!

**i. Air**

“Isn’t it wrong for us to hang out like this?”

Gyatso choked on his cup of tea. Aang looked over to him in concern, but the older monk just waved him off. Aang conceded, turning his gaze back to the last rays of sun disappearing on the horizon. His evening meditation lesson would start soon. And yet here he was, sitting on the balcony with Gyatso, a steaming pot of tea and freshly baked fruit pie between them. It was not something new, it wasn’t supposed to be wrong.

Today, though, it felt so wrong.

“Why do you ask that, Aang?” Gyatso finally said, his voice still scratchy from his coughing fit. Aang refused to look at him, eyes trained to the young monks still playing right below them. Their laugh could be heard even from their higher spot, and Aang knew they didn’t have any lessons to worry about for the rest of the day. Just his luck that he was the Avatar, who had schedules for exercises and trainings.

Air Nomads were supposed to be free. He was not. Air Nomads were supposed to be unattached to mortal connections. Yet Aang clung to what little consolation hanging out with Gyatso gave him.

His senses tingled as the air around him so subtly shifted, and he quickly controlled the current to stop the object threatening to hit his head. Aang looked up to see the offender, the fruit pie that was now floating above his head. He turned to his mentor with an indignant, “Hey!”

“Sulking don’t suit you,” was Gyatso’s response.

Aang frowned—he wasn’t _pouting_ , no thanks—as he settled the fruit pie back to the spot between them. “Don’t pull _our_ pranks on me.”

Gyatso gave him a toothy grin. Then his expression turned somewhat-serious again. “You didn’t answer the question.”

Aang turned away from his concerned gaze. Gyatso was his guardian, and after all this time they spent together, he also knew Gyatso cared deeply for him. Of course, all the elder monks cared for the younger, but Gyatso’s attention had always felt… different. It felt more personal, somehow. More intimate, in the familial way.

That was what Aang told himself, anyway. He had to believe it, because the other option was that he had to be the odd one out of the Air Nomads, the one who cared too deeply, the one who treasured human connection a little bit too much.

“I just feel like…” he hated how small he sounded, “like I don’t really fit in here.”

“Here?” Gyatso’s murmur matched his own volume.

“Yeah—here.” Aang gestured vaguely around them.

“Because you’re the Avatar? You know you’re still an Air Nomad, Aang.”

“No, it’s—I don’t know.” Aang pulled his knees back and buried his head there. Somehow Gyatso hit the point and missed by a mile at the same time. He took a different approach. “One of the Air Nomad teachings is ‘to not attach oneself to the mortal connection’, right?”

“Yes,” Gyatso rolled the syllable for a comically long moment, but Aang didn’t pull his head up.

“So… shouldn’t we not be doing this? Spending time together outside of lessons like this, I mean. And those times when I skipped lessons because you asked me to.”

A thoughtful hum, then, “You sound like one of the Council of Elders.”

“ _You’re_ one of the Council of Elders,” Aang grumbled in frustration. Then Gyatso started incessantly poking his side, and when he finally looked up, there was a plate of sliced fruit pie in front of his face.

“Pray tell, Pupil Aang,” there’s Gyatso’s ‘teaching’ voice, “do you think of me as less of an airbending master for also being a master baker on my spare time?”

Aang scrunched his brows as he accepted the plate. “No.”

“You sound so sure. Why?”

“You also use airbending to make the pie.” He gestured to the conical shape of said pie.

“It’s not like that’s a particularly difficult move. You’re also aware I make other baking goods!”

Aang mulled it over as he took a bite of the pie. The sweet taste of plum filled his mouth, and he realized the sky around them was already as purple as the pie’s swirly topping. “It still doesn’t remove your mastery of airbending skills.”

“It doesn’t,” Gyatso agreed. “It added to who I am. Aang, you’re an Air Nomad. You’re also the Avatar. You’re also a human, and—” Aang glanced at Gyatso on the weird pause, but the elder was not looking at him. “A child. All the feelings, all the attachments that you feel, they matter. They’re who you are.”

And Gyatso may be too cryptic for Aang’s tastes sometimes, but he also always knew what the right thing to say. He felt the knot inside him easing up a bit.

“Yeah?” Again, he hated how small he sounded, so he shoved the rest of the pie inside his mouth to cover it. Gyatso gave him a hearty laugh as he tried to swallow the piece.

“Yes.” A warm, weathered hand settled on top of Aang’s head. The smile on Gyatso’s face was warm, too. “Now go. I think I’ve used up my quota of ‘taking Aang off his lessons’ for today.”

Aang stood up along with Gyatso and gave him a proper bow. Then he rushed to envelop his mentor in a hug. If the front of Gyatso’s robe was left a little wet, neither of them mention it.

“Thank you.”

“You owe me a pie, Aang.”

**ii. Water**

Aang found himself alone in a corner. Again.

Don’t get him wrong, he was absolutely thrilled that Katara and Sokka found their dad’s… crewman? best friend? They clearly haven’t met each other for a long time, and Bato’s place reminded Katara and Sokka of home. And they had left their home for a while, now. They clearly needed this small reunion.

Aang was less thrilled about the getting left out thing.

It was almost like he’s right back at the Air Temple, the Avatar that no longer fit in among the young airbenders. Here he was, far from home—the home that no longer existed; though he tried not to think about it too hard—the lone airbender among Water Tribesmen. He didn’t exactly fit in.

He wondered if he ever would, now.

The bowl of stewed sea prunes gave a nice warmth against his palms. He took a sniff, and immediately scrunched his face in disgust. He felt a little bad for their host but he simply refused to taste whatever gave off that smell.

His three companions were sharing stories around the campfire and Aang couldn’t find his place in their conversation. He either had no idea about their shared memories or got shrugged off for trying to join in. But it should be fine. This little corner he’d had retreated to was warm enough. 

The announcement that Katara and Sokka’s dad would send a message anytime soon froze his little spot, though.

The siblings were going to see their father again. They would leave Aang for their father.

Feeling distraught, he left the tent. He had a feeling they didn’t even notice. It shouldn’t matter. As he stared out to the sea, he reminded himself that he shouldn’t feel like this. Katara and Sokka already said they were his family, but of course their own dad and Bato came first. It shouldn’t affect Aang like this.

As an Earth Kingdom warrior gave him a letter addressed to Bato—a map to Sokka and Katara’s dad, how fucking convenient—it was harder to convince himself that the two siblings wouldn’t drop his journey for their dad.

So he crumpled the letter and shoved it to his pocket. Shoved all his feelings into a box. Go back to the abbey with a smile (they really didn’t realize he left at all, but let’s also push that fact away) and shoved the stewed sea prunes down no matter how bad it tasted on his mouth.

Morning came and frankly, he was on edge. His heart thumped loudly when one of the sisters found the paper that accidentally fell. He saw the remaining footsteps of last night’s ostrich-horse and airbended them away, silently hoping no one noticed.

Then Bato took them ice dodging. Because Sokka hadn’t done it with his dad before he left, apparently. As the current rocked the boat, Bato’s words rocked Aang’s world:

“Aang, you control the jib. Without your steady hand we all go down. Your position is about trust.”

Aang tried to act like that didn’t just felt like a punch to the face. Thing was, Aang could be trusted. Aang was their friend. Aang could be trusted… even when he hid the message from the others, right? He didn’t want to lose Katara and Sokka, was all.

The crumpled paper weighed his chest, but they made a great team nonetheless. They even made it through the last, taller boulders. They stepped back to the shore with smiles and Aang felt a little lighter.

That proved to not last long. Bato gave him “Mark of the Trusted” and the guilt came crashing down on him in waves again.

So he said, “I can’t,” and handed them the message.

And it went just as good as he expected. The siblings were upset and angry. And they chose their dad over Aang. Of course.

“Good luck,” Katara said. He wondered if those would be the last words he’d ever hear from her.

He’s a big dumb idiot.

Somehow, this hurt just as bad as listening to the announcement that he had to be separated from Gyatso. In some way, this hurt almost as much as finding his mentor’s unmoving remains.

The stewed sea prunes was already acid in his stomach. Losing home still tasted just as bitter.

**iii. Earth**

Aang jumped on his seat as the door to the Jasmine Dragon slammed open. The shop itself was already closed that late evening, but Toph stormed in like she owned the place anyway. She headed straight to Aang’s table, before leveling him with her unseeing stare.

“You’re back quick,” he commented.

“And the others aren’t here,” she replied.

Aang shrugged. “Sokka and Katara are shopping. Suki is with Zuko, and I think Uncle Iroh is trying to get him to rest.

“That bitch is pushing himself again?”

“You know how he is. Want some tea?”

Toph finally sat down beside him at that. Aang put his own cup down, before standing up to get a new cup for her. He firebended the pot of jasmine on the counter to warm it up again and brought both items to their table.

“How are you back so quick, anyway?” He asked as he poured the steaming beverage to the new cup.

“I was riding Appa.”

“I know. You ‘borrowed’ him from me.”

She blew the hair from her face, a gesture Aang had come to recognize as her getting ready to kick some ass. Or her going to jump into an emotional talk. He guessed the situation would fit the second option better, but with Toph you never knew.

“They didn’t even let me in,” her voice was a mere whisper, her head tilted down towards the stone floor. “Of course I went in anyway, but.. Mom wouldn’t even look at me. And Dad apparently left a while back…”

Her voice trailed off to nothing, and Aang knew those were tears he saw between black fringes.

Tear tracks, just like what he saw in Gaoling a long time ago, when he thought getting Toph to teach him earthbending was a lost cause.

It was sort-of risky when it came to Toph, but damn it if that wasn’t asking for a hug. Still standing, he wrapped his arms around her tightly. He settled his chin on top of her head, uncomfortably facing her hairbun. But he stayed still.

She didn’t punch him, this time. Small arms (Aang had to remind himself Toph was a little bit younger than him) wrapped around his torso, and he felt wetness in front of his green robes.

Aang should’ve came with her after all. Toph wouldn’t let him, but maybe he should’ve been more stubborn. Maybe that would’ve had a better outcome than letting her go back to Gaoling alone. He didn’t know for sure. He might be the Avatar, but he doubted himself more often than not. Ask literally anyone.

Toph released her grip after a moment, and Aang followed. He sat down again, pushing the cup in front of her.

“I don’t want tea,” she croaked, and before Aang could refute, “do you have any sweets?”

He was going to answer Uncle Iroh probably stored some in the kitchen, when an idea popped inside his head. An idea that just might cheer Toph up, or at least distract her for a while.

“Hey, Toph, can you cook?” Aang said, even as he started pulling her by the arms to the kitchen. Aang didn’t mention the way her rock-solid feet gave little to no restrain in this particular moment.

“I mean, I watched the servants prepare meals. And Katara, too.” A little bit of her harsh tone was back. “I am not helping you cook, Twinkle-Toes.”

“Okay, then, just watch.” Aang let her go as he scoured the kitchen for the ingredients he needed. “Uncle Iroh taught me how to make egg custard tart some time ago! I’m not an expert yet, but I think I can get the hang of it.”

He heard Toph’s snort from where she was leaning against the wall. “Sure, I’m looking. Also, you hang out with that old man a lot.”

Aang hummed, decidedly ignoring her jab as he mixed the ingredients for the crust in a bowl. “Do I?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I feel like Sparky’s a little jealous.”

He shot an incredulous look to her. “Why would Zuko be jealous? Iroh is his uncle.”

Toph raised her hands in mock-surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying, you get along old people so well. With Hakoda, too. And your friend Bumi. He’s like, _old_ old.”

“Watch your mouth, you youngster, me and Bumi are almost the same age.”

Aang set the dough aside for it to rest, only narrowly avoiding the rock Toph sent his way. He started making the tart filling with a laugh.

“Seriously, though, how do you do that?” She asked again as she had moved to stand beside him, leaning on the counter. “Adults hate me. I’m too ‘rash’ or whatever the hell word they use.”

“Hey, Uncle Iroh doesn’t hate you.”

“Eh. He doesn’t count.”

“I’m sure Hakoda doesn’t hate you. And Bumi, too.”

This time, the rock did hit Aang’s head. He yelped and actually had to use waterbending to save the tart filling from spilling to the floor.

“I’m serious! And I honestly don’t know how. Maybe because I’m… technically old? As an Avatar and stuff?”

“Convincing stuff,”

“Maybe it’s the Air Nomad wisdom?” He retrieved the dough again to roll it thin. “I hang out with a lot of old monks there. Maybe things I didn’t notice stuck and made me communicate well to the old people.”

Toph grunted in response, before pointing at his work. “You want me to do something with that?”

Aang beamed at her. He handed her the round cutter. “Sure! Cut them with this and I’ll shape it into the mold.”

She started doing as she was asked. The gaps between her cuts were too big, and there would be too much of the dough left, but Aang left her be. He could roll it again for the next batch.

“How do you get over that?” Toph was not looking at him and her voice took that quiet tone again. “Losing your home like that, I mean.”

Aang tried to keep the laugh from coming out of his mouth. It would sound too bitter, for either of them. He focused his attention on pressing the tart shell to the mold as he said, “When I find out, I’ll let you know.”

When they were done with the shells, Toph was the one to pour the filling into them. Aang waterbended the overflowing filling as subtly as he could. If his friend noticed, she didn’t say anything. They baked the tarts and reheated the tea—with proper fire instead of firebending, this time.

The moon had been up for a while when they finally tasted the still-hot tart. It was crunchy, and sweet, and just as delightful as Aang could remember. Toph also said she enjoyed her delayed sweets. Later, Iroh returned with a tired expression on his face, possibly his whole evening spent on convincing Zuko to rest, before his face brightened upon seeing Toph. He crushed her in a hug and Aang hid his laugh behind his palm at Toph’s constipated expression.

Defining home would be a little hard, but this sweet taste was similar enough. At least, he hoped Toph feel the same, too.

**iv. Fire**

The festive music quieted down considerably once Aang closed the door out to the balcony. He took an audible inhale, drinking in the Fire Nation Capital’s warm air. The sky was clear tonight, the moon still new and stars glittering around Yue. Compared to the party he just excused himself from, the outside was way too quiet.

“Nice weather, isn’t it?”

And apparently Aang wasn’t alone, after all.

He approached the lone table out on the balcony, giving the older man standing beside it a smile. “Hi, Uncle Iroh.”

“Hello, Aang. Tired of the party already?”

“Just want to take a breather,” he peeked to the teapot Iroh was tending to. The smell was not ginseng, the tea Iroh usually drinks. But the smell was somehow more familiar to Aang’s nose. “What kind of tea is that?”

Iroh gave a huge smile, just as always whenever Aang took interest on his beverages. “This is Fire Nation’s special butter tea! I have spare cups, would you like to try some?”

“Sure!” Iroh poured on a new cup for him. Aang accepted the cup and stared at the milky brown liquid in it for a moment. Again, it looked familiar. He just couldn’t seem to place the memory. “What’s it made of?”

“It’s a special one. The usual steeped black tea at first, but then you blend it with salt, milk, and hippo-cow butter! It has an interesting taste—Aang?"

As Iroh started explaining, Aang had taken a sip of the drink, and his grip on the cup started shaking. The taste that hit his tongue helped him piece the puzzles at last.

“This taste just like _po cha_!” he nearly exclaimed, vibrating in excitement. “I haven’t had _po cha_ in so long! No wonder it smelled and looked familiar, we used to have this every morning in the Air Temple—”

He paused. Winced. Did he really forget one of Air Nomads routines for a second there?

He bit his lip, putting the cup back down to the table guiltily. How could he do that? He was the last airbender. If he forgot about Air Nomad culture, it would disappear with him.

If he died, it would all disappear with him. His culture. The memory of his people. He’s the only living relic of a civilization that no longer existed. How would he persevere it if he already started forgetting details of it?

A grip on his arm brought him back to present time, and his eyes met Iroh’s concerned ones. He must have blanked out for longer than he realized.

“Should I prepare another drink for you?” he offered kindly. Aang gave him a strained smile and shook his head.

“No, it’s fine. I’d love to drink this. It’s just…” he turned to look over the balcony instead of facing the older man. “Reminds me of home. But now I’m the only one carrying the legacy of that home, I’m… really scared I’ll screw things up.”

Iroh hummed. “And why do you think that would ever happen?”

Aang bit his lip. Picked the cup again and just stared at the tea. “I may be the Avatar, and the last airbender, and I had done my part in ending the war, but I’m still… me. Just Aang. My body may have lived for a hundred years, but in my head, I’ve only gone through thirteen and a few months, at most.”

Aang didn’t know why he even said these things to Iroh. He never said it to anyone, not even Katara. But in Iroh’s presence, there was this feeling of safety inside him. Iroh felt familiar. The pai sho games, the wisdom, those gentle eyes—Iroh reminded Aang of Gyatso.

They way he spoke in a roundabout way was also just like Gyatso. “And what is so bad about that?”

“People expect a lot from me. Then they also turn around and call me a child.”

“Both are true. But before I speak more, Aang, my nation is the one who committed the crimes to your people. Are you sure you want to have this talk with me?”

Aang mulled it over. “You’re not the one who wiped the Air Nomads. That was Sozin.”

“Oh, I did my own fair share of bad things. I can’t and shouldn’t run from that.”

“But you’re not running from it. You’re trying to be better. You stood with the wrong side, but when you find out the right side, you fight with it. You’re the one who helped Zuko see the right thing, too, and now he’s leading the nation for… reparations, for a lack of better words.”

“The cost for finding out the right thing to do was too big.” Iroh murmured, giving Aang’s shoulder a pat. “You are a wise one, Aang. And you are still a child. Both of them may coexist. The thing you have to understand is, you do not have to carry that burden of legacy alone.”

Aang looked up to face Iroh, and almost reeled back under the conviction of that gaze. The uncertainty weighed heavy on his own. “But I’m the only one left who know about the Air Nomads.”

Iroh’s eyes turned to side, and Aang followed. Behind the glass ballroom doors, they could see everyone still dancing to the muted music. Zuko’s crown glinted against the torches, his eyes in an annoyed glare but smile wide as Toph dragged him around the dancefloor. If Aang strained his eyes, he could spot his other friends also mulling around the room, equal bright smiles on their faces.

“I have said this to my nephew, once. And I have said it to Toph, too. Aang, I am telling you now, you do not need to always do things on your own. There is nothing wrong with letting people who love you help you.”

Aang turned back to face him. “Even if they’ll know my home just from stories?”

Iroh’s gaze was still filled with that ever-present, ever so gentle sureness. “They will take it in just fine. You have journeyed a lot, Aang, but if this old man may give you another piece of advice; it would be to tell you that you can have more than one home.”

Aang took another sip of the butter tea. It was as rich and as savory as he could remember, from back in an Air Temple on a chilly morning. It still gave the same comfort inside him, in this warm night, too many years he missed later. There was a tinge of something different in it, probably since the Fire Nation used hippo-cow butter while the Air Nomads used flying bison butter. But still that same familiar taste, still the same warmth, still the same comfort.

“Do you think it’s okay? To keep this new home?”

Iroh circled his arms around Aang, then, holding him in a one-sided hug. Aang melted to his side immediately, and even in the warm night and after drinking the warm tea, he was grateful for the extra heat.

“This world is harsh, Aang. The universe will keep taking what it wants to take. We can only try to make the most of it, keep what we can, and build the rest to fill the gaps.”

And there’s that. A little bit of the weight Aang carried all the time, lifted. Iroh did always have his way with words. He set his cup down and pulled Iroh into a full hug. The way strong and steady arms circled around him was also familiar.

“Thank you, Iroh.”

“Always my pleasure to help those I care for.”

**v. Cycle**

“You’re hiding something.”

“What?” After all these years, Zuko’s voice cracked less, but it still took an unusual high pitch for that one syllable. Yep, definitely hiding something. “I am definitely not hiding something.”

Aang sighed, leaning on the railing of the boat taking them to Air Temple Island. “Zuko, you’ve been acting weird all day.”

“Weird how? No, I didn’t.”

“Sure, Fire Lord Hotman.”

Zuko elbowed his side for his troubles. “Seriously, I wasn’t acting weird.”

“You tripped on nothing in the council hall when some kid yelled ‘pie’.”

Zuko winced. Rubbed the back of his neck and avoided Aang’s eyes. “I was surprised.”

“Suuuree.”

“Anyways! Look, we’re arriving!” Aang gave him the stink-eye, but Zuko was decidedly still not looking at him, and instead pointing at the approaching island like he hadn’t been there a thousand times already.

Aang let it slide for now. As his friend almost nearly jumped when the boat was docked, he kind of regretted letting him go easy.

“Zuko, stop sprinting.”

“I’m _not_ sprinting!”

“Why are you so eager to visit today?”

“I am as eager as usual. Stop pestering me.”

Aang groaned, finally airbending himself to catch up. He got a grip on the back of Zuko’s robes just right in front of the main hall’s door. “Honestly, I don’t know what you would even be hiding from me, your bestest friend—”

“SURPRISE!”

Aang’s eyes widened as he finally took in the view in the main hall. Everyone was gathered there, the plain room now decorated with yellows and oranges and splashes of blue and green and red. Aang blinked again, still standing still in front of the doorway.

“Happy birthday, Dad!” His three kids raced one another to hug him, and Aang was forced to release his grip on Zuko to hold them. His friend joined the rest of the group after sending him a sheepish smile.

“My birthday?” Aang directed the question to the children still hugging him.

“Mom said no one knew your birthday, and that’s sad!” Bumi exclaimed, pushing himself out to make gestures with his hands. “So me and Uncle Sokka came with an idea, let’s celebrate the day you came out of the iceberg as your birthday!”

“Hey, this is mostly Bumi’s idea, I just helped with the execution.” Sokka piped up from his spot, raising his glass with a grin at Aang.

“Me and Mom made the food!” Kya joined in giddily. “But Tenzin helped with the special one!”

Aang gasped dramatically. “There’s more special things today?”

The three kids giggled as they scrambled away from him, possibly to retrieve the ‘special food’. Aang laughed and joined the others on the low table, kissing Katara’s cheek before sitting down beside her.

“You guys didn’t have to do this.”

His wife laughed, bumping his shoulder lightly. “Trust me, this is purely the kids’ idea. The others just enabled them.”

“Hey! I’m not saying no to parties.” That was Toph. Judging from the redness of her cheek, she already had more than one drink. Sokka tried to shove her away from where she was elbowing him, but she seemingly melted to his side even more.

“We can stop doing this next year if you don’t like it.” Suki said carefully, and Aang gave her a smile.

The Air Nomads from his past didn’t know their date of birth. They didn’t celebrate birthdays, and they definitely didn’t build families in the generic definition of it.

“No, it’s fine. I think I kind of like it.”

Aang did all of those, now. That didn’t make him any less of an Air Nomad. Changes happen, but his culture would still live on. Through the Air Acolytes, through him, and Tenzin, and so on. He’d make sure no one forgets it.

“Ta-daa!”

Aang’s mouth fell open as he was shocked back from his reverie. Now set in front of him was a pastry he knew so well. Brown crust, conical top, with that ever so familiar purple color.

A fruit pie. One that he didn’t make. One that someone else made for him.

“You made this for us a few times,” Tenzin said, a little shyly. “I tried to follow what you usually do. I hope it’s good enough!”

Aang’s vision grew a little misty as he stared at the offending (it was endearing) pie. Katara cut him a piece and the kids made unnecessary team effort to push the plate towards him.

The filling was plum. A few parts of the crust were burned and the filling was too sweet.

It made him as happy as whenever he and Gyatso threw these same pies to the other older monks.

“I can’t even see, but I bet Twinkle-Toes is crying right now.” Toph laughed. Aang caught sight of Zuko punching her arm. Before his kids could start crying themselves, Aang let out the—albeit a little bit teary—laugh from inside him. He felt content.

“It’s the best pie I’ve ever tasted.”

He was home.

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell. how sentimental i am.
> 
> so! too many research went to incorporate the correct food to this and i will dump a few notes down here. if you're not interested in reading that, please go scroll ahead to leave kudos/comment! that would mean a lot to me. thanks for reading <3
> 
> \- The Air Nomads fruit pie is inspired by _torma_ from Tibetan Buddhism. According to Wikipedia, the Tibetan term comes from the root _gtor-ba_ which means to "cast away, break up, or scatter", implying both a sense of offering and of letting go/non-attachment. I thought “non-attachment” fits Air Nomads well hence me including it as one of their culture.
> 
> \- Sea prune is a Water Tribe fruit inspired by real life sea cucumber. I don’t know what else to say to this except Google describes sea cucumber as “tasteless and has a rubbery texture, but absorbs the spices in whatever you cook it with”.
> 
> \- One of the Earth Kingdom dishes Aang loves is egg custard tart, which is inspired by Chinese/Hong Kong egg tart. Realistically, you need to rest the dough longer than what I described in this work, but I shortened it.. for storytelling conveniences.
> 
> \- Butter tea is a drink of the people in the Himalayan regions, Tibet, and China. It is called _po cha_ in Tibet specifically. Since Fire Nation is partly inspired from China, I decided to make this beverage the one connecting Fire Nation and Air Nomads cuisine. In real life, they use yak butter, and I changed it to hippo-cow and flying bison butter to fit ATLA’s fusion animals.
> 
> \- A few musings are also inspired by [this article](https://www.thelongestwayhome.com/blog/how-to-live-overseas/what-is-the-definition-of-home-2012-edition/).
> 
> ok i'm done if you reach down here and read all of that ily thanks a lot for sticking around <3 my [twitter](https://twitter.com/sakvnosuke)


End file.
